Rathole
by SilverPoint
Summary: An aggravating case and the cruel hands of fate bring Boba Fett face to face with Luke Skywalker... tempers flare and plots form. Constructive criticism appreciated.
1. Arrival

The hunters waited unmoving in the shadows, hidden or in the open, eagerly awaiting their quarry's arrival. Rafet Orin had crossed one too many employers and the entrepreneur had brought down their wrath in the form of a 20,000 credit bounty on his head. Bounties like that were the small-timers favorite, big enough for quite a while but small enough to keep the professionals away. And so it happened that at Orin's favorite cantina, no less than eight minor bounty hunters lay in wait. As the door hissed open, numerous assassins turned their heads and drew their weapons, eager for the chance to make easy credits.

"You're going to have to raise the price if you want me to go after him." The mechanical voice informed its employer coolly.

"But of course, of course." A silky, pleasant tone assured him. "His head is worth a lot to a lot of people. I can get in touch with them and raise the bounty to, say, 100,000." A tall, thin, and sharply dressed businessman eyed Boba Fett appraisingly. "That is, if you can deliver."

"Of course I can deliver." Fett near-monotonic voice carried as much impatience as he ever let show. "He killed a couple amateurs and he can use the Force, but he's no Jedi."

"True, he is Force-sensitive, though not enough to be dangerous. The problem comes from the fact the academy will likely go after him. He appears, to all intents and purposes, a warrior in a losing struggle against an unjust government."

"Then I will deal with them." Fett said, and his employer thought he detected a hint of anger in the man.

"Alright, off you go. I don't want to hear from you again until you've succeeded." Fett stormed off, outwardly composed but inwardly a bit aggravated with the stupidity of his employer and the allies of his quarry.

"Not the most cheerful one to work with, is he?" The hunter asked from his hiding place.

"No, but he's better than you." snapped his employer. "You'll get the same as him, no more and no less, if you are the one to bring him in."

"Yet you let me stay for his audition, and not the other way around. Why?"

"You can be disposed of, if need be." He informed him smoothly.

Fett strapped into his seat, adjusting safety harnesses and sealing the cockpit. He began to prepare for the jump to hyperspace. Once the stars had faded, he focused his whole attention on the matter at hand, namely, how to get a person out of the Jedi Academy against their will. It wouldn't be easy, though the Academy wasn't so desperate for Jedi that they wouldn't turn him out on their own, eventually. But that would require him to stay on Yavin 4, waiting for Orin to be kicked out, losing out on other bounties. A hundred thousand wasn't worth that. So, he would have to figure out how to lure Orin out into the open, where he could be kidnapped… or disposed of. That would simplify things greatly, but the 100,000 was alive only. Dead, he wasn't worth anything more to anyone, and he would revert to the 20,000. He began to mull things over in his mind, trying to work out a plot. The cold and isolation of space around helped him to focus, and clear his mind of the anger he felt at Orin, the Jedi, and his idiotic employer.

Rafet Orin landed at the Jedi Academy in something less than style. Something called an old Y-Wing. Still, it was better than some of the vehicles around him. He strolled calmly down the path, ignoring the vines and ducking the occasional branch, glad once again that he was none too tall. He walked calmly as he could towards the Temple, drinking in everything around him with an experienced brown eye accustomed to both misery and splendor, but not jungle. As he entered the Temple, he saw a couple of children lifting leaves or lighting fires with the power of their minds. Experimentally, he lifted one of the leaves cluttered around the floor and tried to bring it to him. But it merely wavered there, hovering for a few seconds and then fell back to the ground. A silver-haired Jedi instructor chose that moment to look his way, and asked pleasantly, "Who are you?" Her smile was genuine, but there was a fire in her eyes that left him no doubt as to what would happen if he gave an answer that would threaten the Temple.

"Rafet Orin." He offered readily hoping news of his true business would not have spread here yet. Also, he knew he could not deceive a Jedi.

Her eyes grew clouded, and he couldn't get any sort of read at all off her, even using the Force. "I see. We've been on the lookout for you. Come." She walked down the hall, just slow enough to show him where to turn. He hurried after her, wanting to leave but knowing that he didn't stand a chance of escaping a planet of Jedi, even Jedi in training.


	2. Meeting

After a complicated series of twists and turns, the Jedi led him into what appeared a mere office, but the presence he felt within could by no means have the word mere applied to it. "Enter." The Jedi told him, then turned around and walked off. He entered the office, and vaguely noticed the astromech droid, the flight suit, and a few other items, but the main object of his attention was…

"Rafet Orin?" A blond-haired man with ancient eyes asked. "I'm Luke Skywalker. I assume that by coming here, you want to begin training as a Jedi?"

"Yes, sir. I have a limited ability in the Force, but I would like to develop it as much as possible." The young man told his ten-year elder.

"You're lucky to have so little power. The dark side can't get much of a grip on you, that way." Rafet carefully guarded his feelings, making sure Skywalker didn't pick up on the irony he felt in that statement.

"You may see it that way, sir, but I would like to learn what I can. Better a little power with control than infinite power without." Skywalker, Orin was surprised to see, took a few moments to compose an answer to that.

"True." He murmured finally. "Go find Tione, the woman who brought you to me, and tell her I said you should begin training at once.

"Yes, sir." Orin turned around and walked coolly out of the room.

Fett's ship emerged from hyperspace within relative spitting distance of Yavin 6. Much closer and the planet's natural gravity would be pulling him straight down. He had all the threads of thought necessary for his plan, and they began to weave themselves together in his mind. He guided his craft in for descent, not on Yavin 4 but the barren rock whose orbit had brought it closest to the moon. He parked his ship in a crater, where it would be invisible to all but the best sensors. The hunter lay in wait, and began weaving the trap to catch his prey.

In his three days at the Academy, Orin had learned things he would have needed to dedicate thirty years of training to learn on his own. He couldn't believe the power of the Force even his limited talents afforded him. Still, he worried. If he learned too quickly, they would move him on to harder exercises, and spend more time training him. Any Master who spent more than five minutes with him would be sure to recognize the dark side within him quickly enough. Avoiding them required a delicate and dangerous contingency plan. He decided to ease back, appear to struggle with even the simplest of exercises. He needed to remain at the Academy six months without anyone detecting him. After that, he wouldn't need to worry about pursuit ever again.

_Destructive potential always looks so beautiful_. Fett mused, contemplating the sun of Yavin. Destruction itself was often aesthetically pleasing, as long you got far enough away. But those thoughts quickly banished themselves from his head. He required time to focus on the matter at hand, to put his plan into action. His plan, while still half formulated, had coerced him into a visit to the Yavin 4. _Slave II _glided in for a landing, and he focused on the ancient pyramid that was the Academy. 


	3. Confrontation

"Master Skywalker," Tione announced, "There's a visitor here for you."

"Show them in.," Luke murmured, not really concerned with the unknown presence. It was probably another politician asking for some silly favor. Well, he'd turned enough of them around to know how to deal with their kind. "And you are?" He asked, without looking up.

"Boba Fett." A harsh, cold, voice announced.

"Seriously, I don't have time for…" Luke sighed. Then he looked up. It certainly looked like Fett. Immediately, all pretense at boredom vanished from his manner, and he transformed into his old self. "What do you want, Fett?" He asked, a hint of malice coloring his tone and aura.

"Easy, Skywalker, I'm just here to talk. One of your newest students is a thief and smuggler, with no morals." Nothing could be detected from Fett's tone. Not anger, not insanity, nothing. And even more disturbing was that as far as Luke could sense, it wasn't an illusion. The man simply didn't feel.

"I know." He snapped. Why bring up the past history of a student? Many of them were at one time wanted criminals. He himself was still wanted in many a sector.

"Then why did you accept him?" Perhaps, if one had enough time to play a recording of that statement several times, a hint of false curiosity might be heard.

"One of my best friends used to be exactly like him. But you'd know all about Han, wouldn't you?" His eyes betrayed his anger, but he kept himself otherwise composed.  
"Look, I captured Solo, you liberated him. You knocked me in the pit of Sarlaac, I blew it up. All debts are off. I'm here to talk to you about a smuggler with a bounty on his head. And let me warn you about one thing: There's not an honest bone in his body. That bounty is for two-timing his employers. If you take him in, he'll use the Academy for his own purposes, then leave." Fett did not allow himself to become the least bit angry, merely read off a mental list.

"I don't sense malevolent energy within him. He's just misguided." Luke was sure that Orin would not try to hurt any of them, but he had no such certainties about Fett.

"Think what you will." Fett whipped around on one foot and prowled out the door. "Mission accomplished." He whispered, when he was sure he was out of earshot of Skywalker.

Luke leaned back in his chair, exhausted from holding back his anger at the Bounty Hunter. "'All bets are off?' He kidnapped Han and sold him to Jabba. Where does he get off?" As his anger faded, he moaned softly and picked himself out of the chair.

It was easier to fake ignorance, Orin mused, if one knew how. His experiences, while varied, had never prepared him for something like this, learning so much and displaying so little. As he attempted to light the fuse for the seventh time, he thought he could easily get the hang of it, and resolved to come back and try later. The jungle air surrounded him, making it hard to breathe, but all around him plant life and fungi channeled the Force. Making use of it, he reached out again and created just the tiniest spark and smallest bit of smoke. He resolved to continue that until the exercise ended.

Luke watched his newest student with confusion. By all rights, the man should have mastered the exercise by now, even taking into account his limited skill with the Force. Was what Fett had told him true? The Force was by no means foolproof, and he could be amoral and not evil, simply raised in the wrong environment. He had been wrong about too many students in the past to take chances now. "Artoo!" He yelled, though the little droid was close at hand. "Tell Tionne to keep an eye on Rafet Orin. He could be trouble." The astromech whistled acknowledgement and rolled off. Luke hid behind the trees for a moment longer, than turned back into the jungle.

Fett knew the seeds of doubt would by now have planted themselves in Skywalker's mind. The Jedi Master was much too cautious and experienced to take stupid chances. He could have sent an anonymous tip and been as effective, but upsetting Skywalker was part of the plan. A part that, now that it was over, he could review and enjoy at his leisure… 


	4. Invitation

"General Antilles?" A young messenger gazed at Wedge in awe. "Yes, that's me, what is it?"

"I-I have a message for you." He stammered, still staring at the legendary one-time leader of the renowned Rogue Squadron.

"Very well." Wedge grinned, glad that he could still be shocked by his notoriety from time to time. He watched the departing aide for a bit then turned his full attention to the duraplast sheet in his hands. "On Yavin 6, a terrible danger lurks. Be wary of the newest super-weapon that may destroy the galaxy. Its workings are described below." Wedge sighed, deep and heart-felt. Was there no end to these evil geniuses and their monstrous creations? "It is… a secret training academy for Ewoks? Signed, Wes Janson!" Wedge groaned, ashamed he had been the victim of yet another one of his long-time friend and once fellow pilot's idiotic pranks. "Yub-Yub, Wes, Yub-Yub." Attached the sheet was another note, "Luke says to invite you to a banquet at Jedi Academy in 5 days." Wedge smiled at that prospect, it had been far too long since he had last seen his friend.

Everything was in place. Now was the time to take chances, the time to give a push here and a shove there, and hope the whole thing fell the way you wanted it to. Or, at the very least, that it didn't crush you. _Slave II_ was back in its hiding place, and Fett was back to waiting.

Wedge guided his craft in for a smooth landing on the jungle floor. He opened the cockpit and emerged from his borrowed X-Wing. "Funny." He muttered, "Doesn't look like the party's started yet." All he could see were the same blend of old and new ships the trainees had. He shrugged, and began his walk towards the abandoned temple.

"Excuse me, Master Luke, but General Antilles is here for the banquet." Threepio informed Luke.

"Banquet? What banquet?"

Threepio seemed to assume a fallen expression, as impossible as it was for droids to convey emotion. 'You mean there won't be a banquet? I was so looking forward to testing my diplomatic skills, and when the general said you sent him a note inviting him to a banquet…"

"What note?" Luke was beginning to suspect a practical joke of some kind on Wedge's part.

"Why, the one you sent him inviting him the banquet."

Just then, another thought hit Luke. "Threepio, when did you get here?" He was so used to the droid's presence he didn't even remember that Leia had been using him to help look after Anakin and the twins, however incompetent he was.

"Why, I came for the banquet."

Luke was starting to get very confused. "So, Leia and Han and the kids are here for the banquet, and so is Wedge?"

"Yes, Master Luke."

Luke massaged his temples. It was shaping out to be a very long night. "Well, if they're expecting a banquet, I suppose we should give them one, right?"

"Oh joy!" Threepio exclaimed, looking cheered at the prospect of actually _using_ his diplomatic skills.

Note: My computer isn't the best, and sometimes it gets documents confused... if I ever seem to be doing a spontaneus crossover, let me know, since it was probably an upload error.


	5. Sabotage

Orin had volunteered for kitchen duty. Aside from being a good cover for him, he actually did enjoy cooking every now and again. And so as the trainees with culinary skilled worked cheerfully, so did he. Such an easy and enjoyable thing, cooking. A shame that he wouldn't be able to say the same about the rest of his plan.

Wedge, Luke, Han, Chewie, Leia, Jacen, Jaina and Anakin all sat around one table, with the other Jedi scattered across the large and typically empty room at small tables or larger clusters. After the appetizers but before the main course, Luke brought up the subject of whose idea the banquet had _actually _been. "What do you mean, Luke?" asked Leia, perfect confusion and innocence in her voice that Luke didn't believe for a second.

"It was you." Wedge added easily. Luke sighed. It would seem this had been a group effort.

"Wedge, I found out about this thing shortly after you all got here. Fine, you pulled a practical joke on the Jedi Master, I was too lax, never suspecting you would do something so juvenile, you got me. Now, whose idea was this?" He grinned to show he didn't mean the harsh part. Still, Han and Leia had been parents close to six years now, and he doubted they would do that. Wedge, on the other hand, refused to admit defeat, and Luke had no doubts he would like to stay a fighter jockey forever. "Wedge, you set this up on your own?

"No, Luke, honest, I didn't." Wedge kept his face solemn, and Luke couldn't detect a trace of deceit in him as he continued to relay his tale of the note given to him in Janson's twisted way.

"Now that's mighty interesting…" Luke mused, but dinner was served, so he turned his attention to eating for the time being.

Orin was stricken. His ship had blown the engines out as soon he had tried to escape. It was too early, but he hoped that with the extra distraction of the banquet, by the time news leaked of his disappearance, he would have enough of a head start to simply fade into the background. Unfortunately, that didn't seem likely to happen at anytime soon. He would just have to wait out here for another month or so, and when he had developed his talents with the Force to their fullest, after a suitable delay of false struggling, head out once again into vast reaches of space. Unless, of course, he got caught first. He was by no means a good shot or even a criminal mastermind, just a pilot with a talent for lying. He wasn't even a particularly good pilot, come to think of it.

Fett allowed himself a small smile. Eighty thousands credits was a tempting sum, but even more than that, he was enjoying this job. He had grudges of his own, ones that none but he could ever know. He was losing his cool, he knew, but this was personal, this was revenge.

Luke finished his meal and sighed with pleasure. Some of the trainees had been desperate for a chance to show off their cooking skills, and now he knew why. Still, he was so sleepy. _An agreeable meal can do that to you._ He thought, leaning back in his seat and drifting into unconsciousness. All around him, others were doing the same. Everyone was so content, so sleepy… so peaceful as they drifted off one by one. 


	6. Discovery

They would all be asleep by now, Orin knew. He had mixed in a sleep-inducing herb he had found on a jungle planet with everyone's food, in plain sight and with no intent of hurting them. And it wouldn't. They would all wake up in the morning; remember what a good meal they had and nothing after that. What they would make of it, he wasn't sure, but with nothing changed, it shouldn't seem too strange. Not compared to the strange circumstances surrounding the banquet in the first place. He wondered why none of them had been informed of this ahead of time. It would have given him time to test the engines inconspicuously. Now, though, he would have to be on his toes. It was time to forget the stalling and learn what he could as fast as he could. He needed to be ready to escape at the first possible opportunity. If anyone suspected anyone, it was going to be him. He had at most a month he could keep this little charade up in, and then only if nothing else happened.

Luke was the first one up, stretching and yawning before anyone else had even opened their eyes. Odd, they would all fall asleep at once. The food must have been drugged. That thought jarred him out of his half-awake reasoning, and he began to account for everyone before he woke them. All were there. He turned a suspicious glance on Orin, who was sprawled over his chair. Had he been trying something before he realized the food was drugged? Or had he drugged the food; then sprawled himself deliberately to throw suspicion off him to put suspicion on him to throw it off since the entire chain of logic would seem ridiculous? Or, had he... Luke cut himself off there. There were two possibly- either he drugged the food or he didn't. Asking a few questions should prove to be at least a decent idea of how likely he was to have done it, even though it might be a little hard to find out whether or not he actually had. He would have to wait for them to wake up on their own, though, since he couldn't seem to find a way to snap them out of it.

Orin was in the middle of those who woke up. He had given himself a calculated under-dose to make him towards, but not at, the end, but the stuff was tricky and he was no chemist. He got up off his chair; saw Skywalker staring at him suspiciously. That wasn't good.

"I just want to ask a few questions, Rafet." Luke told him. Half the trainees had already gone through the process, being called at half hour intervals and separated after the interviews. Most of them, though Orin didn't know it, had been about him.

"Ask away." He replied, allowing a bit of nervousness to show in his voice.

"Alright. Do you have any idea what was going on with the food? I know you were on kitchen duty. Did you use anything that might have done this?"

"I used a couple of herbs, but I would never intentionally poison anyone." Orin replied. As far as Luke could discern, he was telling the truth. Still, the way he had worded his response was a bit strange.

"Could any of these herbs have had an accidental side effect?"

"I don't know the full effect of some of them." He replied truthfully.

Luke narrowed his eyes. He was avoiding the true purpose of the questioning, replying with honest answers, but he had never said what effects of the herbs he did know about. "Do you know of any properties of the herbs that might have caused this?" He asked, hoping he wasn't too blunt.

"Yes, one of them may have. Although, the sauce could have some sleep agent, or the appetizers, or one of a dozen things people were using herbs for."

"Where did you get these herbs?"

"I brought them with me when I came. As you know, I'm partial to cooking, so I brought a few tools of my trade."

He had successfully avoided a lie that Luke could detect, but suspicion had only increased. If he had brought the herbs, then all of them might have the same effect, or only one, or some combination of those used for the main course triggered a dangerous chemical reaction. Though if that last was the case, he might be truly innocent. There was no way to tell, with Rafet Orin. It might be safer just to ask him to leave.

"Rafet, I'm going to be brusque. Did you place the sleeping agent in our meal?"

"Yes! I mean..." and finally, his last skill had failed him, his confession and been blurted out, and he needed to find a proper twist of words to get him out of this mess. "I put a few herbs in that caused the sleep effect. I wanted to leave the Academy, but I was too scared that you would report me!" So much for that idea. How had he, who had managed to lie his way through dozens of contracts, met his end in this Jedi? The answer came to him easily... the Force. So, the Force could work like a truth serum, could it? He would have to learn that skill himself, after he confessed fully. "I came seeking protection, to wait out the bounty hunter Boba Fett. I only wanted to stay so that he couldn't capture me! But I have seen how wrong I was to use the Jedi Academy as a safe haven. This is a place of learning." Now was the time for his final piece. He turned his body so that it was directly opposite Luke's, and then bowed to him. "Will you teach me truly now, Master Skywalker?

Taken aback by the sudden, apparently spontaneous confession, Luke replied, "We will see."

Fett smirked. He had taken the liberty of planting a truth gas when he sabotaged Orin's engines. As soon as someone asked him a direct question, the gas would make him unable to lie. He could twist words all he wanted, but it would become increasingly obvious. He monitored the comm, as he had for the past few hours, waiting for Skywalker to inform that Orin had been caught in a lie, and one thing had led to another. Logically, once they asked him a self incriminating question, he was doomed.

Luke sighed, inhaled, held his breath for a full minute, and exhaled again. Orin had been revealed for the liar he was, and he was sure there were all sorts of incriminating things he could find out if he asked the right way. "What crimes have you committed, Rafet?" he asked. It was best to be blunt.

"I have committed a few big-time kidnappings, but mostly..."

"Wanted for lying, stealing, extortion, conning, smuggling," Fett read off the bounty. "Two-timing and pretty much every other small time offense you can think of, all rolled into one, easy to track, easy to capture," _easy to anticipate_, he added silently "person. So, what do you say?"

"Death warrant?" asked Luke, not wanting to condemn anyone to certain doom.

"Yes, but he's much more valuable alive.

"I should really report him to the authorities. Don't expect them to give him to you when they're done."

"No need to mention my name at all, Skywalker. My employers will know what happened."

Fett smiled underneath his helmet. So easy to anticipate. First, sabotage the engines so he couldn't escape. Next, call a false banquet, knowing the opportunity will be too great for him to resist, and knowing it will raise a lot of questions. Third, make sure he can't lie his way out anymore. He plotted the jump to hyperspace, but not to claim his credits yet. He had to make sure certain competition didn't get in his way. Fett programmed one last jump, but he was already scanning his computer, looking for his next mission.


	7. Finale

The hunter lay in wait, hidden only by virtue of the fact he was in deep space. He had a mission: Intercept and disable Fett and claim the quarry for himself. Otherwise... his employer would not be pleased. And not that sleazy little go-between, no, this was Hutt business. It was vital that a certain Hutt get his hands on Orin and the knowledge he possessed before he got to the authorities. _Slave II_ dropped out of hyperspace and fired a proton torpedo. Unshielded to escape immediate detection, he was reaching for the handle when a message came in from Fett's ship. "Surrender or die." He threw up the shields and fired a slew of light straight into where Fett's ship had been just moments before. "You have guts. I admire that, but they won't help you if you don't have a brain." Finishing his speech, Fett fired an onslaught of missiles. Not waiting to see if his fellow hunter had survived the blast, he pounded his laser cannons into the other ship until it was nothing but molten slag. "Better quick out here than then slow and painfully in the world of bounty hunters." He muttered to himself. The amateur who had been tailing him to cut down on his employer's costs had been... eliminated. He made a note to add an extra charge for that.


End file.
